


Making Ends Meet

by TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard



Series: Mark In The Middle [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Cat/Human Hybrids, Catboys & Catgirls, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Heat Sex, Hybrids, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Threesome - M/M/M, Vaguely New York City Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26976007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard/pseuds/TheSwingbyJeanHonoreFragonard
Summary: It's probably not a good idea to get between two catboys in heat but Mark's never been that smart.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: Mark In The Middle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985858
Comments: 20
Kudos: 668





	Making Ends Meet

Mark should have  _ known _ there’d be a goddamn catch.

Some intelligent part of him should have thought it was too good to be true. Some deep, instinctive sliver of his brain should have understood capitalism enough to have gone “Isn’t it strange that Taeil is offering you  _ so much fucking money _ to house sit for him for, like, three days?”

Because it should have.

Taeil wasn’t even his friend. He was just some  _ guy _ . Small and slim and smiley. Surprisingly orange hair. He came into the bookshop where Mark worked nearly every single morning to get a black coffee and the  _ newspaper _ of all damn things. Sure, they knew each other in the same pleasant-but-distant way Mark knew all of the shop regulars but he didn’t  _ know _ the guy.

Well… 

He also didn’t  _ not _ know the guy to the point where he’d turn down easy money.

“You seem lively and full of stamina. Just watch over my house for the weekend,” he’d said, “and… take care of things.”

When you lived paycheck to paycheck, you didn’t turn down any bit of extra cash you could make on the side. Even if you had to slide your morals out of the way each time. Mark had done the usual. He had babysat wild kids, picked up part-time work at the florist, ran Uber for a couple of months. He’d also been some girl’s fake boyfriend for a week, helped a crew steal college exam answers and wrote other people’s academic essays (as long as the subject was literature.) He couldn’t be picky. It had only been one summer since he’d graduated college and he was still getting used to living on his own without noisy, filthy roommates and surviving off nothing but cup ramen. So now, he was using his weekend to house sit for a near-stranger. An easy job. But the number of zeroes in the statement when his bank had texted him the details of the cash transfer had startled him. He’d been so shocked he’d called his bank to make sure there wasn’t an error. And then he had double-checked with Taeil just to be  _ sure _ . 

It wasn’t winning-the-lotto crazy or anything but it was double, nearly triple, what he’d make in a month at the bookshop.

Now that Mark looked around the place again, something definitely wasn’t adding up. “Yeah, man, something’s up,” Mark spoke into his phone. “The house isn’t even that big or fancy. He made it seem like it would be something huge with a million indoor plants to water.” His eyes settled back on the TV. “What the fuck? He didn’t even leave a list of chores. Why am I getting so much money?”

“Sounds like there’s a murder basement,” Taeyong told him from the other end of the line.

And, honestly, Mark hadn’t thought of that. It was an absurd idea, yeah, but he couldn’t count everything out this early. A murder basement in a rowhouse was highly probable. He hadn’t walked around the house too much at all even though he’d been there half the evening already. 

Taeyong warned, “if the police come knocking, don’t let them in without a warrant.”

Mark should at least, like, open all the doors. Make sure there were no bodies in any of the closets. Yeah. He should go do that. He stood up and started towards the hall. “If you don’t hear from me by Sunday, I’ve been framed for murder.”

“Can I get your PS4,” Taeyong deadpanned. 

Mark was about to open his mouth and admit he was going to start on his last will and testament when something massive came out of the shadow of the hall at him. Like an attack. He screamed.

“What is it,” Taeyong shrieked in his ear.

Mark hardly heard him. Some giant of a man elbowed him aside and stepped towards the kitchen. 

Taeil hadn’t said anything about a guest or a fucking roommate! 

Mark almost screamed again, thinking the place was being robbed. 

But would a burglar strut around shirtless? Barefoot? In nothing but sagging gray sweatpants?

“What the fuck is going on over there,” bellowed Taeyong over the phone.

Mark slowly regained his composure. He watched the stranger swing open the fridge door and lean their head inside. Now Mark could see the long, brown, furry tail swinging back and forth between the guy’s pant legs. And when he shut the fridge door and turned back around, carton of milk in his big hands, Mark caught sight of the large, brown-furred cat ears poking out of the stranger’s dark brown hair. 

Taeyong shouted, “Mark!”

Finally, Mark snapped out of it. “He didn’t fucking tell me that he had a pet.”

Taeyong heaved an audible sigh of relief. “That explains the pay raise. Wait. Regular pet or  _ pet _ -pet? Cat? Dog? Something wild?”

“A cat hybrid,” Mark explained.

“Aren’t they super territorial? Is it carrying anything dangerous? Is it coming for your neck?”

The catboy strolled back out of the kitchen, through the living room, past where Mark was standing. Mark didn’t mean to stare but, God, the catboy was ripped. Skin bronzed, abs toned, biceps tensing, sweatpants clinging. He towered head and shoulders over Mark. Made him feel excessively small. Even the cat’s hair was well-maintained. Shoulder length and falling in loose, untangled waves. Maybe he was some expensive premiere breed. Mark called out to him, “Hey, I’m Mark. I’m supposed to look after you this weekend.”

Not once did the cat glance in Mark’s direction as he took a noisy swig straight out the milk carton before disappearing back up the hall, hips swaying, tail swinging.

Softly, so that the cat wouldn’t overhear, Mark said into his phone, “his whole body is dangerous. I may not make it through the night.”

=^._.^= ∫

At around ten in the evening, Mark shut off the TV and clicked off all of the living room lights. 

Earlier, he’d done a walk-around of the place. For his own peace of mind. He’d checked each room, each door, each window. Peered into every kitchen cabinet and dresser drawer. Even snooped around in Taeil’s pantry and hallway linen closet. Even crawled around in the weird storage room beneath the staircase.

No murder basements. 

Just a cat who purposefully ignored him, even when spoken to.

This was going to be good, Mark told himself. This was going to be easy. Better some aloof cat that could take care of himself rather than some codependent dog that wouldn’t stay off his lap. He’d just stay here until Sunday and call it a job well done. Once the weekend was over, he’d probably go to an uptown department store and splurge on a new pair of sneakers. You know. Treat himself.

Mark cleaned up after himself in the living room and then hauled his duffel bag of clothes and stuff up the stairs and to Taeil’s en suite.

Sure, he was getting paid a shit ton to watch this guy’s house but he still had a shift at the bookshop tomorrow morning. He hadn’t put his time-off request in early enough. It was no big deal. A short shift that would have him off before noon. Taeil’s place wasn’t even a five minute walk away from work. Literally just around the corner. Right on the other side of the metro entrance. No wonder the guy stopped by so much.

Mark showered, shampooed his hair, brushed his teeth, slipped into his pajamas. With all of that settled, he swung open the door and entered Taeil’s bedroom. It was surprisingly spacious, considering how old and classic the rowhouse seemed to be. King-size bed. Big screen mounted on the wall. Floor mirror reflecting the light of the lamp. A whole loveseat in the corner. There was a calendar on the wall where Taeil had diligently put black X’s through the majority of the days, but this weekend was squared-in with heavy red marker lines like Taeil expected something big to happen in the upcoming days. No laptop or gaming console, though, and Mark hadn’t even thought of bringing any of his. Not even his Switch.

Goddamn. What the hell was he gonna do for entertainment? He’d have to plan a quick trip back to his own apartment. 

Mark dumped his duffel bag on the floor by the dresser and yawned as his long day caught up with him. The catboy sat on the edge of the bed, eyes on the TV. He didn’t even blink or flick his brown-furred ears as Mark crossed the room.

“I’ve got work in the morning,” Mark said, hoping the cat would turn the volume down. When the cat didn’t respond, didn’t lift the remote or anything, Mark continued, “ _ early _ in the morning.” 

Still no response.

The cat was still shirtless, but he had traded his thigh-hugging sweatpants for an even tighter pair of boxers. Based on how he had his heel propped up on the edge of the mattress, Mark could almost see straight up the undergarment. He averted his eyes before he caught sight of too much. “It’s not  _ that _ hot in here.” 

At the snide comment, the cat at least glanced over at him. Acknowledged his existence. His dark brown eyes were big and piercing and flecked with green. He looked away again. Dismissive.

Mark rolled his eyes and circled towards the bed. He didn’t know jack squat about hybrids, minus the basics. All he knew was stuff he’d read during slow hours at the bookshop: science articles, history lessons, progressive hybrid rights essays, startlingly explicit (but equally riveting) romance novels. But words were the closest he’d come to hybrids. Mark had never come in close contact with too many. He did his best to steer clear of strays on the street. He didn’t personally have any friends with enough disposable income to take care of one. Hybrids were clearly more expensive to maintain than regular cats or dogs. Mark pulled back the comforter on Taeil’s bed, crawled in and cocooned himself in the sheets. 

Yo. How high was the thread count on these bad boys? Over 1,000? Mark fucking felt swaddled in softness and luxury. The material felt cool against his skin. He sighed dreamily and closed his eyes but sleep wouldn’t come. The TV was loud enough to vibrate the walls. The lamp was too bright. The hybrid was damn close to sitting right on his foot. Well, Mark could at least take care of one of those issues without having to deal with the cat. He crawled to the edge of the mattress, reached across the bedside table and flicked off the light.

There. Now he could lay down without the brightness bleeding red through his eyelids.

He’d barely gotten comfortable beneath the sheets again when he felt the mattress bounce and shift as the catboy crawled over it. Fast. Purposeful. Then Mark grunted as he felt the guy’s weight fall across him, as the cat planted his fucking knee between Mark’s shoulder blades just so he could reach out and turn the bedside lamp on again. Mark grunted a second time as the cat rolled off of him. “Hey,” he wheezed, flipping over. “I’m trying to fucking sleep here!”

Still, the cat didn’t acknowledge him. He just settled with his back against the headboard, eyes still on the TV, not even an arm’s length away.

Fuck. He was going to be a zombie during his shift if he didn’t catch at least a few hours. He tried to settle down. He tried to get comfortable. But if he slept on one side, he faced the harsh brightness of the lamp. If he slept on his other side, he became all too aware of the nearly naked catboy next to him and the wicked heat that rolled off his body in waves. Mark laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling. It was mildly comfortable like this, but every time he felt himself drift off, some scream or gunshot or explosion through the surround sound speakers would startle him back awake.

Mark sighed. He grabbed his phone off of the bedside table and texted Taeyong. 

_ can i goog ‘how to skin a cat hybrid’ without tripping any alerts? _

_ how bad is he _

_ one nasty bitch _

_ won’t let me sleep _

_ positive he’s doing it on purpose _

_ think about the money mark!! _

_ just last until sunday night _

_ he already paid me _

_ i can sooooo totally ditch _

_ you could but like… won’t you see him at work? _

_ that taeil guy? _

_ shiiiiit i forgot _

_ dammit i don’t wanna mess up any future deals _

_ i could get way more money out of this guy _

_ if i house sit for him a few more times _

_ see????? now youre thinking straight _

Next to him, the cat hybrid groaned in annoyance. He stared down at Mark from where he was propped up on the headboard. Mark met his gaze. But only briefly. Still a bit uncomfortable with the guy’s shirtlessness. With his proximity. The cat groaned again and rolled his eyes. Quite possibly in response to the obnoxious pinging noise of Mark’s phone as Taeyong continued to text him. Oh? He didn’t want to be annoyed? Didn’t want to be bothered by loud sounds? Mark turned up the volume on his phone as high as it would go but it still wasn’t as noisy as the TV.

_ what am i supposed to do with this thing for real, tae? _

_ come on mark. he’s not a thing. _

_ idk what to call him _

_ idk his name _

_ you can ask _

_ how? _

_ just fucking ASK dude. _

_ ive been talking to him all night and he won’t say a word _

_ what am i supposed to do with him? _

_ forreal?? _

_ just feed him  _

_ and  _

_ make sure he cleans up after himself _

_ make sure he doesn’t tear apart any furniture _

_ or tear ME apart _

_ and like…is he just gonna sleep in the bed right next to me? _

_ that’s usually where people let their hybrids sleep _

_ does he have to sleep naked tho? _

_ holy shit… do you think taeil fucks his cat? _

_ would that be weird _

_ to ask _

_? _

_ lol it’s not that weird these days _

_ hybrids need a lot of special care _

_ …… _

_ fucking them is special care? _

_??? _

_ dude do you not read? _

Mark was only vaguely aware of the brand new silence in the bedroom. Some time in the last few moments, the cat had turned off the television. The silence was a godsend. It wasn’t until a slight ringing sang in Mark’s ears that he even truly realized just how loud the volume of the TV had been, how thunderous the action movie had sounded. While he waited for Taeyong’s response, the catboy leaned over him again. Except now that Mark was laying on his back, the cat’s knee went straight into his ribcage. Mark wheezed and slapped a hand down on the catboy’s beefy thigh, repeatedly, but the cat still took their time to lean over and flick off the bedside lamp. Then took their time sliding back over to flop down on the bed. 

“Don’t you see me laying here,” Mark asked him sharply, but now that the room was pitch-dark save for the bluish glow of his phone and the sliver of yellowy street lamp light that came in through the window, Mark couldn’t see the cat’s face. He suddenly wished that he could. If only to make sure he wasn’t about to take a set of claws to the throat.

Mark felt more than saw the catboy crawl under the sheets and get settled next to him. It was a tad disconcerting. The king-size bed was quite wide but the big cat had Mark pressed close to the mattress edge. Like he wasn’t but a breath away from kicking Mark right off onto the floor.

Mark’s phone dinged in his hand but before he could unlock it and read Taeyong’s messages, the catboy’s hand came out of the darkness and snatched the device right from between Mark’s fingers.

“Hey,” he shouted. “What the hell, man?”

The hybrid turned off Mark’s phone and chucked it across the room. Mark heard it hit the floor.

At least he had a beefy fucking case on it. 

“Oh my God,” Mark mumbled. He didn’t even bother to shout or sit up to go retrieve it. He just laid in the bed and stared at the ceiling, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. 

Not even five minutes later, the cat was asleep. Purr-snoring low in the back of his throat like the low hum of a fan. It took significantly longer, nearly half an hour, for Mark to follow him into slumber.

=^._.^= ∫

Mark woke up with a big hand around his throat.

Not tight enough to choke.

Almost. But not quite.

Mark sucked down air and turned his head.

The big cat was right next to him. Right on top of him. A heavy leg tossed across Mark’s hip. Mark snorted back a laugh. To be so big and act so cold, the cat seemed to be curling up against Mark’s side as if he was just that used to cuddling in his sleep. His hand at Mark’s throat didn’t really  _ feel _ threatening, but the threat of his fingernails still dug into Mark’s skin. 

For a moment, Mark just looked at him. At his thick lashes and plump, pink, slightly chapped lips. God. What was he doing? Getting the hots for somebody else’s cat? Slowly, gently, so as not to startle the guy and wind up bleeding out over the pillow, Mark pulled the catboy’s hand away from his neck. A gold bracelet he hadn’t noticed last night caught the grayish morning light coming in through the window. 

Mark glanced at it. At the cursive name that dangled from the chain.

Johnny.

The cat’s name was Johnny.

Before Mark could make another assessment, Johnny rolled his body so that he sat large and heavy across Mark’s front. 

“Horny,” Johnny mumbled. Sleep turned his voice rough and devilishly low.

“Fuck,” Mark whispered. Because of course the first thing the catboy would say to him was something like _ that _ . “That’s clearly not your other hand I feel, then.”

In response, Johnny pushed his hips forward, slowly, dryly grinding against Mark’s thigh. “Hmmm,” he moaned, opening his eyes. “Need you.” He leaned forward, licked a stripe up Mark’s cheek with his surprisingly rough tongue. “Need you so bad.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Mark huffed. Then he rolled over and got out of bed in record time.

=^._.^= ∫

“Thank God I’m gonna be at work half the day,” Mark mumbled into his phone. 

His day had just begun and he was already in a sour mood.

Johnny had scratched him twice, hopefully accidentally, when Mark had attempted to crawl out from beneath his weight to get out of bed.

He’d gone through the effort of making breakfast (bacon, scrambled eggs, cheesy grits and toast) only for Johnny to touch none of it. To turn his nose up at it like it disgusted him. Mark had asked him what he wanted instead but Johnny had just sat there, arms folded across his chest, pouting like a child. Mark just dropped a protein bar onto the cat’s lap before returning upstairs to the bedroom to get ready for work.

“You’ve only known each other a few hours. Just give him time to warm up to you,” Taeyong told him.

“Oh, we’re pretty warmed up. Woke up to him humping my leg. Is that a dominance thing? He’s already twice my size.”

“Don’t let him scare you. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s as big as he is.” Taeyong hummed thoughtfully. Then he said, “You’ve probably been avoiding him just as much as he’s avoiding you. Just… try talking.”

“You sound so sure. Like that’s a guarantee.” 

“You guys  _ just _ met. You can’t expect him to like you immediately.” Taeyong sounded oddly passionate about this.

Mark called him out on his bullshit as he slipped on his shoes.

“I spent all night reading up on this shit, man,” Taeyong said. “About hybrids. About how many of them get kicked out onto the streets just because they’re a little stubborn. I’m on the hybrid shelter’s page reading all the background stories of the hybrids in their care… They’re like people, man. They take time to love and be loved.”

“Dude,” Mark said. “Are you suddenly thinking of buying one?”

“Adopt. Don’t shop.”

Mark swung open the front door to Taeil’s apartment and stepped outside. “Are you gonna join PETA or something because-- SHIT!” 

“Ow,” Taeyong complained. “Why are you screaming?”

Sitting on Taeil’s stoop, so close to the door that Mark nearly knocked into them, was someone sitting down, knees curled up to their chest. They were in a dirty, faded shirt and smudge-covered jeans. They wore Converses so old that the sole on the left foot was hanging on by literal threads. “No need to scream. I’m not going to hurt you,” the stranger said. “Just need to stay out of the rain.”

“Mark. For real. What the fuck.” Taeyong squealed.

Beneath the stranger’s unkempt hair, Mark spotted the familiar triangle of black cat ears. “It’s a stray,” Mark exhaled. He shifted his body a bit to block the stray cat’s view as he punched in Taeil’s door code and all but threw himself back inside. “Fuck, man. I gotta get to work. I can’t do this.” His heart still rattled in his chest, hammering away hard and sending sizzling adrenaline through his veins. His hands shook. “He scared the shit out of me. What if he’d gotten into the house?”

“You’re overreacting, Mark.”

“Am I? You have to remember that this isn’t my house. If he gets inside and fucks up the furniture or breaks anything or gets into a fight with Johnny, that’s on  _ me _ .”

At the sound of his name, Johnny sat up just a tad on the couch, ears twitching attentively.

Taeyong at least attempted to encourage him. “Everything’s fine. Just breathe, dude.”

But Mark couldn’t  _ just breathe _ . “I have to go back outside. What if he attacks me?” But more importantly than that, Mark hadn’t checked the weather. He didn’t know it was going to storm and had been so pissed off at Johnny about breakfast that he hadn’t heard the rain against the windows. He rushed down the hallway and up the stairs to Taeil’s bedroom to rescue his travel umbrella from his duffel bag. 

Taeyong spoke calmly. Sure of himself, as if he’d become an expert overnight. “They aren’t going to assault you just because you walk by them on the street. Hybrids aren’t that aggressive unless they feel threatened and cornered.”

Mark walked back down the stairs and slowly approached the front door. “I can’t be late for work. I’ll talk to you later.” He ignored Taeyong’s protests as he hung up the call and shoved his phone in his back pocket. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door as narrowly as he could manage so that he could slip his body through. He braced himself.

No claws.

No stray attempting to rush their way past him into the apartment.

Mark opened his eyes.

The stray still sat on the stoop, huddling beneath the flimsy shelter of the awning. He held his long, black tail loosely, nervously, in his hands. He was pale and thin. Almost the exact opposite of Johnny’s beefy, pampered frame. The cat was wet enough that it was clear he hadn’t completely escaped the storm and, every now and then, he shivered in the autumn damp and chill. He didn’t look up at Mark. Didn’t acknowledge Mark standing right in front of him as Mark popped open his umbrella. The catboy’s eyes were blank and hollowed-out as he stared off into space, patiently (or impatiently) waiting for the rain to let up.

Mark didn’t really know what happened. He just knew that his anger and fright melted away at that moment. He stepped towards the stray and held out the handle of his umbrella. “Here.”

Cautiously, the cat looked up at him but made no move for the umbrella.

“Here,” Mark repeated. “Take it.” He pressed the handle of the umbrella against the stray’s chest and did not let go until the stray gripped it tight with their own hands.

Mark flipped the hood of his jacket up over his head and then ran down the stairs. Out onto the sidewalk. Out into the rain.

=^._.^= ∫

As harshly as it rained and as loudly as it thundered, as much noise as it made, the storm didn’t last long. It passed not too long after 10AM and Mark listened to the water sluice off the roof and down the gutters.

His shift came and went, so quickly that he jumped at the chance to cover a coworker’s shift only to be disappointed when they came in on time anyway.

He clocked out and made his way out the door.

Mark was so used to going to his own home after work that he was halfway down the metro station stairs before he remembered where he was going and what he was doing. He hoofed his way back up to street level and waited for the light at the crosswalk to change. At least the walk was short and dry, even if the wind was dastardly and cold. It would be really easy to come down with something out in weather like this. When he got back to Taeil’s, he shouldn’t have been surprised at all to see the stray still lingering on the stoop, even if the rain had stopped hours ago.

Mark swallowed hard and made his way up the stairs. He wasn’t afraid, he told himself over and over again. He wasn’t afraid. He just wanted to look after his friend’s house!  _ Why are you still here _ , he wanted to say.  _ The rain let up hours ago. Go away! Stop blocking the door.  _ But the only thing that slipped out of his mouth when he got to the top of the stairs was a squeaky, unintimidating, “Hey.”

The stray smirked at him. Amusement noticeably sparkled in his dark eyes. “Hey.”

Perhaps it was because the stray had swept their dark hair out of their face but Mark hadn’t caught on to the fact that the stray was handsome until now. He didn’t know why he felt heat flush his face. Mark nervously shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets but his commute had been so short that stopping by a bodega hadn’t even occurred to him. He didn’t have any snacks or food to hand over.

“Wanted to give this back,” the stray said, breaking the awkward silence. He lifted up Mark’s navy blue umbrella.

Mark had nearly forgotten all about it. It was just some cheap thing he only pulled out when he didn’t want to lug around his full-size thing. He was about to make up some excuse to let the stray have it but--

“I thought you had better tastes than this.”

Mark took the umbrella. The stray must have figured out that tricky, cheap little latch if he’d gotten it to close all the way. Mark explained himself, “I got it from work.”

“The name’s Yuta,” the stray stated. 

“I’m Mark,” Mark introduced himself.

Then, without saying anything else, the stray stood up off of the railing and started down the stairs.

=^._.^= ∫

Johnny had on a shirt, for once, but not much else.

He lounged on the other end of the couch, eyes on the television, bare and mildly hairy legs curled up underneath him, elbow propped up on the arm of the couch. The end of his tail curled one way and then the other. Every now and then, the tip brushed across Mark’s knuckles as he gripped the couch cushion for dear life.

“Are--” Mark swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are you hot?”

“A little,” Johnny stated. Though the dampness of his forehead said otherwise.

Johnny’s shirt was thin. Damp with sweat. Oversized with a scoop neck. It hung just low enough across Johnny’s thighs that Mark couldn’t be entirely sure if Johnny had on underwear. Johnny turned. Caught him staring. There was a wildness to his eyes, like he was a split-second from pouncing.

Mark hopped up from the couch, feeling butterflies in his stomach. “I’ll turn the air on.”

He fled to the kitchen.

At least lunch was far more successful than breakfast.

Johnny ate the BLT Mark made him without a complaint.

=^._.^= ∫

Mark left the house around 2 in the afternoon. 

He was surprised (but not all that surprised) that he nearly tripped over Yuta’s legs on his way out the door. He stared down at the stray. “Are you hurt,” he asked.

The catboy looked up at him, legs spread, back to the railing. “No,” Yuta said.

Mark asked, “Are you in trouble?”

“Not in this neighborhood.”

“Then why are you still here?” Mark hoped his words didn’t sound confrontational.

“I’m just…” Yuta paused. His ears twitched forward. He smiled. But only slightly. “...interested.”

Mark stood there for a moment. He had no clue what Yuta was trying to get at. “Well, I gotta go.” Fortunately, Yuta didn’t stop him on his way down the stairs.

=^._.^= ∫

_ how do u get rid of strays? _

_ like _

_ how do you shoo them off? _

_ without drop kicking them over the railing or something. _

_ mark. you can ask. _

_ how? _

_ just ask him to leave. he’s not some alien. _

_ how do i get rid of him without asking him to leave? _

_ … _

_ well _

_ there are some natural repellent recipes online _

_ apparently _

_ apples covered in cinnamon and vinegar work _

_ it has to be a specific type of vinegar tho _

_ that sounds fake _

_ it works!! _

_ so i’ve read _

_ u don’t sound sure _

_ are there any other ways? _

_ aluminum foil _

_ faaaaaaaaake _

_ it’s the truth! _

_ something about the sound it makes _

_ the texture _

_ just lay it out where you don’t want the cat to go _

_ i’m not gonna cover taeil’s entire stoop in aluminum foil _

_ idk what else you want me to tell you _

_ you could always spritz them with water _

_ but mark _

_ that’s inhumane _

_ don’t do that _

_ uggh _

_ … _

_ are u still on the shelter website? _

_ are u  _

_ thinking of adopting one? _

_ his name is jaehyun _

=^._.^= ∫

When Mark returned to Taeil’s brownstone two hours later with his Switch case, Yuta was not on the stoop. That was all well and good, Mark thought. Because Yuta struck him as the type who would casually eat apples soaked in vinegar. He seemed like the type who would sit directly on top of aluminum foil, look him in the eye and dare him to say some shit.

“Looking for me?”

The deep voice made Mark startle and whirl around.

Yuta was on the stair behind him, hands shoved into his holey, threadbare jeans.

“No,” Mark said quickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he  _ had _ been looking. Waiting.

Yuta tilted his head. “Are you worried about me?”

“N-n-no.” Mark cleared his throat and turned his head so that he didn’t have to meet Yuta’s cool, dark gaze. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he’d seen Yuta standing up without him slouching or curling in on himself and, even on a lower stair, Yuta towered above him.

Yuta kept on. “Are you looking out for me, Mark?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Think I can’t take care of myself,” Yuta asked, but he wore a shit-eating grin on his face, leaning to the side to watch Mark’s face burn red.

“N-no,” Mark spat out. “I mean, yes. I think you can take care of yourself.”

“Sure, Mark,” Yuta stated. His tone dripped with sarcasm.

And maybe Mark didn’t really want to try any of Taeyong’s suggestions because he didn’t actually want to shoo the stray away. “I’m gonna go.” Mark rushed up the last of the stairs and all but fled inside the apartment, ignoring Yuta’s giggles the whole while.

=^._.^= ∫

Johnny came down with a wicked fever before the sun went down that evening.

It was just his luck that Johnny would come down with something not even twenty-four hours after Mark started this house-sitting gig. “God. You’re burning up,” he hissed as he tested Johnny’s forehead with the back of his hand.

Johnny’s whole face was flushed and red. His hair was soaked and sweat dripped from the ends. His shirt was so wet with sweat that the thin white cotton clung to Johnny’s skin and Mark could legitimately count his abs through the material. At least Mark was now sure that Johnny had on underwear as he watched the cat writhe and moan on the couch cushions.

Mark attempted to cool him off, wiping Johnny’s forehead and arms with a rag wet with ice-cold water, but it apparently did very little to fight off Johnny’s fever.

“It hurts,” Johnny whined. “It hurts, Mark.” His voice was high and broke over the syllable of Mark’s name, whinier than Mark thought the cat was capable. “Hurts so bad.”

“What hurts,” Mark asked, worried. “Where?”

“Here,” Johnny exhaled.

And it took a moment for Mark to look down and realize that Johnny had worked his boxers off his hip and was now gripping his dick in one of his fists. Mark was taken aback by the weird shape of the thing. Girthy and pink, veins bulging near the middle. The sides near the head were lined with ridges, spines, and the tip looked swollen and purple, dripping with clear globs of precum. Mark reached out, gripped Johnny’s wrist, pulled and pulled until the catboy let go of his erection. Mark grabbed hold of the waistband of Johnny’s boxers and pulled them back up. 

Johnny whined petulantly. First, high-pitched, like a half-scream. Then low and rumbly. An irritated purr that vibrated his entire chest. Again, Johnny moaned, “It hurts.” He bucked his hips upward, but there was no relief for him as he humped the air. “Mark. I need you.”

“Need me to  _ what _ ,” Mark squeaked out nervously.

“Make me fucking cum.” And Johnny said it with such fierceness, such surety, that it had to be the truth.

Mark wasn’t prepared for this. He hadn’t signed up for this. He hopped off the couch and rushed around the house. First, he did a lap around the living room, then a lap through the kitchen, before he remembered that his phone was in his own goddamn pocket. “I’m gonna go to the clinic,” he shouted over at Johnny. He barely remembered to put on his shoes before he rushed out the front door.

=^._.^= ∫

The hybrid clinic was two blocks down and Mark made it through the doors mere minutes before they closed for the night.

“How can I help you,” said the orange-smocked receptionist behind the desk. The name tag pinned to his chest read Jungwoo.

“My cat’s sick,” Mark wheezed, still breathless from his half-jog up the street.

Jungwoo leaned forward to peer around Mark at the empty lobby behind him. “Did you bring your cat?”

And it wasn’t until then that Mark felt foolish. “No. I left him at the house.”

“I see,” said Jungwoo slowly. He ran his hand through his curly black hair, judging Mark with a mild frown. “What are his symptoms?”

“He’s feverish,” Mark squeaked. 

“A fever is a symptom for a wide variety of illnesses,” Jungwoo explained calmly.

Mark's eyes darted to the other side of the desk where a display case of pamphlets sat. Needing something to do with his shaking, nearly-numb hands, Mark stepped towards it and thumbed through the numerous publications. There was an informative one about the dangers of breeding farms, a sympathetic one about how to cope with loss, an oddly colorful one labeled ASKING FOR CAT-SENT.

Jungwoo lost his patience. He slapped a hand on the surface of the counter. “In other words, I need you to be more specific.”

“Right, right,” Mark said, startling. “Sorry. I’m new to this. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Jungwoo said after a long, weary sigh. “So can you tell me about your cat’s symptoms?”

“He’s sweaty. And… And he keeps saying the weirdest things.”

“Can he walk?”

“I’m not sure. He’s laying on the couch. Squirming, kinda.” Mark once again got distracted by the rows of pamphlets. There was one that listed hybrid behaviors, how to tell a cat or dog’s mood by their tail position. The importance of proper hydration and diet. There was one that said ADOPT! DON’T SHOP! And then there were two or three others advertising nearby hybrid shelters, listing the vaccinations all hybrids should have on their record.

“Sir.”

Mark jolted. He looked back over at Jungwoo. “Sorry. Sorry. He… This is so embarrassing. He, like, took all of his clothes off. And… Oh my God. I can’t fucking say it. Sorry for cussing.”

Jungwoo sighed again. “Is he leaking?”

Mark nearly swallowed his tongue. Nearly shrieked in sheer humiliation. “You can call it that.”

Jungwoo tried his best not to roll his eyes. “Your cat is in heat.”

Mark grabbed a pamphlet titled BRINGING YOUR CAT HOME and shoved it into his back pocket. “What’s that?”

Jungwoo was silent for a long moment, his eyes unblinking, his fingers steepled in front of his face. Then he took a deep breath and said, “It affects most hybrids every month. Lasts for about two days. Sometimes three or four if the symptoms are ignored. It’s… leftover animal instinct. Even after the gene splicing.”

“But what is it,” Mark wondered. 

It took a moment for Jungwoo to decide that Mark was seriously asking. “Long answer, it’s a biochemical reaction. A sort of primal call from their own DNA to ensure species survival through reproduction.”

Mark just stared blankly.

Jungwoo realized he was losing his audience. “Short answer…” He glanced up at the clock above the counter. “Shit, I’m off the clock now so I may as well just tell you. Short answer is, he wants to fuck you.”

And Mark kind of had a feeling that’s what it all meant but hearing it put so bluntly still shocked a giggle out of him. 

Jungwoo continued, “Dogs function a little different but cats, when in heat, have no refractory period. They just fuck, cum, fuck, cum, fuck, cum until the heat breaks.”

Mark nervously giggled again. “How the hell does anyone keep up with that?”

Jungwoo stood up. He started straightening up the papers and manilla folders on his desk. “They only last for about… two minutes? At a time? You just have to endure it. And if you can’t--” He looked Mark up and down. “--there are plenty of toys on the market specifically to help them through their heats on their own.” Then, as if to make doubly sure Mark knew he wasn’t talking about a chew toy. He added, “Dildos.”

Mark thought about yesterday and how he’d gone through all of Taeil’s things looking for the murder basement. “I don’t…” He giggled, absolutely positive that his cheeks were burning bright red. “I don’t have any of those on hand.”

“Then you’ll have to man up,” Jungwoo told him. “Or hope the heat breaks early.” 

And now that Mark thought back, that was the premise of many of the hybrid romance novels he’d skimmed through: some human brought to the absolute  _ limits _ of their physical and sexual capabilities by a nigh-insatiable hybrid. They stayed at the top of the bestsellers list.

Jungwoo stashed away his office supplies. “Don’t worry. You can’t get him pregnant. Only hybrids can impregnate hybrids.”

That was a fear Mark didn’t realize he should have. But he figured he’d learned everything he needed. “Thanks,” he told the receptionist, backing away from the counter.

“Don’t leave him unsupervised for long,” Jungwoo warned. “Or he’ll ruin all of your furniture.”

=^._.^= ∫

Mark walked up the steps of Taeil’s brownstone, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he was amazed he hadn’t collapsed. Did Taeil really have sex with his catboy? Well, Taeyong had told him how likely of a possibility that was.

“He’s in heat,” came Yuta’s voice from the deep shadows next to the stairs. “I can smell him through the door.”

Mark squinted but he couldn’t see too much beyond the dim circle of light created by the lamp above the door.

“Want me to help,” Yuta asked. He came up the stairs and into view. Slowly. The lamplight glinted off his dark eyes, made them gleam sharply. Predatorial. 

“I can’t let you do that,” Mark said firmly.

“Why? You don’t trust me,” Yuta asked. Now he was standing on the stoop with Mark. His cat ears stood straight up, at attention. His tail was rigid. Tense.

“Johnny’s not my cat,” Mark explained. “This isn’t my house. I’m just looking over things for the weekend.”

Yuta approached Mark. So swiftly that Mark didn’t even have time to react before Yuta leaned close to him, nose to nose. “Think you can handle him? On your own?”

Mark would have to. The last thing he needed was to find out from Taeil a few weeks from now that his precious premiere breed was pregnant with a stray’s kittens. “I’ll figure out a way.”

Yuta chuckled. “You’re so cute. So brave. I like that.” Then he tilted his head forward and dragged his tongue up Mark’s cheek. From jaw to earlobe.

Slightly grossed out, Mark wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his cheek. Super delayed, a shiver went up his spine as his skin tingled where Yuta’s rough tongue had marked him. “What was that for?”

Yuta spun around and descended the stairs. Over his shoulder, he shouted, “Look it up!”

=^._.^= ∫

When Jungwoo had said Johnny would ruin all of the furniture, Mark had assumed the cat would take his claws to everything. What Jungwoo meant was that Johnny would  _ ruin all of the furniture _ .

“Oh my God.  _ That’s _ what he meant by leaking!” Mark wailed in horror. He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and rushed to the kitchen. He rummaged around for what felt like hours but could have only been seconds. At long last, he found the roll of paper towels beneath the sink and charged back into the living room like a doctor about to perform emergency surgery. “Oh my God. Johnny. Are you okay?”

Because Johnny was on his elbows and knees on the couch, tail straight up towards the ceiling, ass in the air. White viscous liquid bubbled out of his asshole and dripped down his inner thighs in off-white rivulets.

“Johnny? Does that hurt? Are you okay? What’s-- What’s going on?” 

“It hurts,” Johnny groaned. “It hurts. It hurts. My whole body aches. I need your dick.”

Fuck, that was forward. Mark wondered what he should do. Call for help? Would Taeyong suggest anything useful? Shit. Taeil was out of town. It was why Mark had to house sit to begin with. 

Mark dragged the paper towel up across Johnny’s thigh, scooping up the liquid. Johnny’s skin was flushed and hot and red beneath Mark’s fingertips, like touching the surface of a stove. The liquid sopped through one towel tremendously quickly so he chucked it aside, grabbed a new sheet and continued. Then had to chuck that aside and grab a third. He had just barely wiped up what was trickling down the curve of Johnny’s ass when a fresh, dripping river oozed from Johnny’s hole. “Jesus! Johnny, are you alright?”

“It’s me,” Johnny mewled. “It’s slick. It--” He reached around. Shoved a finger straight into his hole. “--eases the slide for you.”

Mark had read that word before in the novels he skimmed through at work. Slick. Self-lubricant. Maybe his imagination was complete ass because he’d always pictured it a bit differently. Always believed it came from somewhere else. It had a bit of a smell to it, he noticed. Not unpleasant. If only mildly musky. His paper towel once again thoroughly soaked and useless, Mark tossed it aside but, for some strange reason, drug his finger through the mess across Johnny’s ass cheek and, for an even stranger reason, put his finger in his mouth. 

Johnny was looking right over his shoulder at Mark when he did it. He yowled high and pleased. “I’m so ready for you, Mark.”

Mark swallowed. Johnny’s slick had the texture and consistency of cheap, store-bought applesauce but was surprisingly flavorless. Mark snapped out of it. “Okay. You need to stop doing that a foot in front of my face.” He grabbed Johnny’s wrist and pulled until the catboy dislodged his long, thick finger from where he’d been pumping it in and out of his own asshole.

“You’re so mean to me,” Johnny whined. “You’re so fucking mean. You won’t touch me. Won’t let me touch myself. Just--” He interrupted himself with a deep, vibrating moan that seemed to come up from beneath his diaphragm. “Just give me what I need, Mark. Fuck me until I’m full.”

Mark tried the paper towels again. Tried to wipe up the mess pooling on and staining the fabric of the couch. But the more he wiped up, the more leaked out. And the more that leaked out, the louder and louder Johnny yowled like a cat in heat.

Fuck. What would the neighbors think?

It was looking more and more like Mark’s only option was to fuck his way out of this. “Okay,” he said. More to encourage himself than to reassure Johnny. “I’ll help you.” He stood up. Peeled his way out of his own sweat-soaked shirt and had just kicked off his pants when a heavy, thudding knock reverberated off the front door.

Loud. Hard. Fast. Like someone was trying to break it down.

Foolishly, Mark ran for the door, swung it open.

Soon as he rushed out onto the stoop, Yuta was standing right in front of him, holding the BRINGING YOUR CAT HOME pamphlet in Mark’s face. “Are you serious about this?”

Mark had to lean back just so that his eyes could focus on what was in front of him.

Yuta snapped, “Do you really want to fucking take me home?”

Mark hadn’t really been thinking when he’d grabbed that pamphlet and shoved it in his pocket. Hell, he hadn’t even realized Yuta had lifted it off of him earlier that night. “Why do you sound so angry about that?”

Yuta yanked back the pamphlet. He stared down at it and then up at Mark’s reddened face. “Answer my question. Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Mark said.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Yuta growled out.

Mark gulped. Yuta was so much bigger than him. Maybe not beefier, but taller. Stronger. It didn’t help that Mark was standing on Taeil’s stoop, in nothing but his briefs, shivering in the nighttime chill. “I’m not lying,” he squeaked. Was Yuta pissed at him for wanting to give him a home? That didn’t add up. “Are you mad? Are you going to leave?”

Yuta squeezed his eyes shut. Gritted his teeth. In the lamplight, Mark could clearly see the faint point his teeth came down to. Made for biting and tearing. “Sorry, Mark,” he said. “I’m not mad at you. I’d love to come home with you. I just can’t hear myself think.”

“What’s wrong,” Mark asked.

Yuta opened his eyes. “Can’t you hear him?” His voice was quiet, breathy. “Can’t you hear him begging for dick?”

And now that Mark trained his ears, he could hear Johnny’s throat-rattling yowling even from outside.

“He’s so fucking needy. He needs me. He needs to be fucked so hard he can’t fucking see straight.” Yuta’s eyes were a bit unfocused and his hands trailed down his flat abdomen to palm his noticeable bulge through his jeans. “Let me at him.”

Mark swallowed again. He mustered his bravery. “You can’t fuck him.”

“You’re so mean, Mark,” Yuta mewled. And his words mirrored Johnny’s so perfectly that Mark’s head swam. “You smell just like him.”

More firmly, Mark repeated, “You can’t fuck him, Yuta.”

“Then can I fuck you?”

Mark froze. His heart skipped a beat. He scrambled for an answer. “You’re not my cat.”

Yuta’s gaze snapped into focus. He hooked his eyes in Mark’s direction. “You’re right. You’re  _ mine _ . Glad we established that.” An odd flash of lucidity flashed through his dark eyes.

“And when did you decide that,” asked Mark, feeling like little more than a meal beneath Yuta’s hungry stare.

“When I claimed you for myself,” stated Yuta. “I should probably get the other side too. Just to let everybody know.” And before Mark even knew what the catboy was talking about, Yuta stooped down and licked his face again. From jaw to earlobe. The other side of his face.

Mark got the sense that such an action was a display of ownership. Something he’d have figured out if he looked it up. “I have to go,” Mark said. Johnny’s screeching was becoming unbearable even to his own ears. He spun around, punched in the door code. As soon as he gripped the handle to push the door open, Yuta was at his back. Legit at his back. His torso was pressed to Mark’s spine like he was trying to flatten the smaller guy to the wall. Gently, Mark told him, “You can’t come inside.”

Yuta misinterpreted. “I’ll cum on your back, then.”

“No. That’s not what I meant! You can do whatever but--” Before he could dig his way out of that hole, the front door swung open and out of his hand. 

It was Johnny. He’d heard the door unlock.

There was movement. Color. A low, quiet hiss. Between blinks, Yuta had shoved past Mark and charged inside the apartment.

Shit!

Mark shook himself free of his nerves. This was bad. Yuta shouldn’t be inside! There were too many risks! He shoved the door open and didn’t even have to go too much farther because the heat-crazed cats were right there in the foyer, a tangle of tails and limbs.

“Guys!” Mark shrieked. At first, he thought they were fighting, that they were clawing at each other’s throats, but it was merely Johnny yanking Yuta’s shirt over his head, snatching at Yuta’s pants, clawing at his underwear. Stripping him bare. “Guys! Holy fuck!” Mark had to do something. Yuta already had Johnny flat on his back, hands beneath the big guy’s knees.

This was so fucking wild. Mark had gone the whole summer without a single hookup. Hadn’t fucked around with anyone since his graduation party. Nearly six long, dry months. But now, in a handful of hours, he’d gotten propositions from two hotties.

It would be absolutely insane to get between two catboys in heat but Mark  _ needed _ to. Or he’d wind up with some absolutely awkward explaining to do to Taeil later. 

Mark slammed the front door shut behind him and dove to the floor, not caring how hard it was on his knees.

He muscled his way between Yuta and Johnny and did it just in time too because Yuta had been but a breath away from shoving his dick into Johnny’s wet, beckoning hole.

Johnny whined. “Please please please please. I don’t care. I don’t care whose it is. Put a dick in me. I’m fucking losing my goddamn mind.”

Yuta fought against Mark. Pressed his narrow, slender dick between Mark’s thighs as if he could still reach Johnny’s ass if he pushed hard enough. 

Mark grunted against his strength. “Yuta, I’ll fuck him.”

Both of Johnny’s hands were at Mark’s briefs. One swift pull and his claws tore the material to shreds, leaving Mark naked between them. “Come on, baby,” Johnny cooed. “Make me feel good.” His hot, big hand wrapped around the middle of Mark’s cock and guided him down, down, down and  _ in _ .

Mark’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. Johnny’s hole was tight and wet and hot around his dick. Slick pushed out around him as Johnny guided him in. It felt like drowning. Like sinking. Mark thought he might fucking choke.

He didn’t have long to sit there and revel in the feel of Johnny’s muscles tightening around him, though. Yuta’s hands gripped Mark’s hips. Held him steady, held him down, as he pushed his dick inside. 

Mark threw his head back and half-screamed. Yuta’s dick was long and skinny and wet with dribbling precum. Mark wasn’t properly prepared or stretched for this but Yuta pushed in and in regardless, purring against Mark’s back soothingly until he was balls deep.

Mark sucked in a breath, feeling truly, properly  _ impaled _ . The pain burned fire hot but the pleasure shot icy tingles up his spine to the base of his skull. 

Johnny moved first. He wrapped his tail around Mark’s thigh almost possessively as he raised his hips off of the tile floor and then sank back down onto Mark’s dick. Shallowly at first, as if to acclimate himself to the angle, then with faster, fiercer movements.

Not giving him a chance to breathe, Yuta pulled out of Mark, nearly completely, before shoving himself back in. Pulling out again. When Mark shrieked in pain, Yuta paused, leaned forward, scooped up fingerfulls of Johnny’s slick oozing out of his hole around Mark’s dick and then pulled back and dripped the white liquid across his dick before slamming his hips forward. The slick eased the slide, Mark noticed. And his body warmed and tingled as Yuta fucked more of it into him.

Mark found himself unable to move. Or, rather, unwilling to. In front of him, Johnny wrapped his thighs around Mark’s waist and shoved his hips down onto Mark’s dick. Behind him, Yuta gripped him by the neck, moaned into his ear, and slammed his hips forward like he needed to teach Mark a lesson.

Johnny came. He whimpered and whined as cum shot from the tip of his swollen dick and splattered across his chest.

He didn’t stop, though. “More, more, more,” he begged, slamming his hips down harder. He wrapped a fist around his own dick and pumped harder, his fingers making wet, percussive noises as they slid across the spines on the side of his dick.

“Fuck,” Yuta huffed into Mark’s ear, and his hips stilled for the briefest of moments as he came up Mark’s ass. No sooner had he stopped shivering than he was back to fucking. His cum making the slide all the more smoother. All the easier.

Mark leaned forward a little, planted his hands on Johnny’s shoulders and attempted to fuck him. It was messy. Sloppy. Choppy. Johnny finally seemed to realize Mark was moving his hips so he shifted the angle of his hips and relaxed. The new angle made Mark cry out. Made Johnny’s hole make this delicious, wet, slurping noise as it practically sucked Mark’s dick inside. Yuta’s thrusts made it a little difficult for Mark to set up his own rhythm and pace, but Johnny didn’t seem to mind. He was already cumming again. 

Mark could feel the catboy’s orgasm. Johnny’s muscles seemed to clench around him. Massage his dick from base to crown and back again.

“Finally, finally,” Johnny gasped. He dragged a finger across the nub of one of his nipples. “Give me more.”

Mark gave him more. When he pushed forward, he sank into Johnny’s vice-tight heat. When he pushed back, he sank farther onto Yuta’s spined dick and felt every little semi-hard ridge as it dragged across his rim.

Yuta came again. Harder this time than the last, like he needed to warm up first. Mark felt it inside and out. Felt Yuta shudder and shake above him. Felt Yuta’s dick bloat and spill inside him.

Mark didn’t know why it came to him at that moment but he recalled Taeil’s calendar upstairs. This weekend marked heavily in red. He remembered Taeil’s instructions.  _ You seem lively. Full of stamina. Take care of things.  _ Mark would bet good money that Taeil knew exactly what would fucking happen today.

Johnny was already cumming a third time. White oozed from his slit and down across his fingers. Mark risked his own balance to take a hand off Johnny’s shoulder, press his finger to the cum bubbling at the tip of Johnny’s dick and then pressed the white into his mouth. Unlike his slick, this did have flavor. Deep and musky. Salty. 

Mark smacked his lips like he’d just feasted on a delicacy. 

“Go, go, go,” Johnny urged. “Don’t fucking stop. Don’t fucking stop!” His hand was a blur around his dick again, fisting it and twisting it like his orgasms were soap suds he was wringing out of a washcloth. “Don’t make me wait.”

Mark planted his hands on Johnny’s shoulders again and concentrated on fucking him hard and fast. It couldn’t have been but ten or so minutes but the overstimulation had Mark shivering. Had drool pooling at the corner of his mouth.

Yuta fisted a handful of Mark’s dark hair and filthily swore as he came. He didn’t stop the snapping movements of his hips, though, and every time he dragged his long, ridged dick out, Mark felt cum drip down his inner thighs. And every time he pushed his gorged dick in, the soft ridges dragged along Mark’s walls, stimulated his prostate like tickling feathers across his chest.

When Johnny came again, he screamed. Then shoved his hand in his mouth to silence himself as he whined and choked and gurgled.

Mark could see the difference he was making now. Could see that Johnny’s dick no longer looked as unappealing a shade of purple, no longer as bruised-looking across the head.

Growing tired, Mark leaned back, until his head was against Yuta’s chest, then leaned back farther still until Yuta got the hint.

Yuta sank back with his back on the floor and Mark leaned back so that he could get his legs out from under him and prop himself up on his hands and feet. Instinctively, Johnny understood. He followed their movements until he was on top and then started bouncing, up and down, up and down, on Mark’s dick, balanced on the balls of his feet.

Yuta gripped Mark’s hips, raised him up enough to give himself the room to fuck upwards. He managed about four, slow, shaky thrusts before he whimpered Mark’s name and came again. 

Mark whined, exhausted. He couldn’t imagine how these two were still going. He couldn’t fathom how they still had the strength to either bounce down on top of him or fuck up into him. His forehead was covered in sweat. His arms were shaking. But his dick was still hard, which Johnny took full advantage of.

“We’re dripping all over the floor,” Yuta commented, impressed.

Mark snapped open his eyes and stared at the dripping white Johnny leaked all over his dick as he bounced.

“Gonna stuff you so full, Mark,” said Yuta.

Like Mark wasn’t full already. He threw his head back as a full-body shiver held his nerves hostage. “I can take it all,” he claimed. “I wanna be yours.”

“I already decided you’re mine,” Yuta mewled. 

Perhaps it was their filthy words that pushed Johnny over the edge again. “I’m cumming,” he said, so low that Mark could feel that deep voice of his vibrate straight through his dick. Johnny slammed himself down hard, taking Mark to the balls, and came with a shout across Mark’s stomach. “Need more,” he croaked out.

But Mark felt rubbery. Spent. How could he fucking give them more?

Johnny was already bouncing on his dick again. His movements were so erratic that he dripped sweat across Mark’s belly. That his legs fucking shook every time he hoisted himself up. “Need my fix,” he demanded. “Need everything.” Hell, he was bouncing so hard now that his weight was spearing Mark down onto Yuta’s dick. So precise that Mark wondered if Johnny could feel  _ Yuta’s _ dick.

“You’re so fucking  _ sturdy _ , Mark,” Yuta growled into Mark’s ear as he came. And it didn’t sound like something that should be a compliment but Mark knew it was supposed to be one. He was still holding up. Still holding on. Still capable of being used from both ends like this without breaking.

Yuta put his tongue to the base of Mark’s jaw and licked upwards towards his ear.

Mark understood. “I’m yours,” he panted out. “I’m yours.”

“Good boy,” Yuta cooed.

“How close are you,” Johnny asked. He’d given up on fisting his dick and now the big, wet thing slapped percussively across Mark’s cum-splattered belly every time Johnny sank down. “Need your cum. Need it so fucking bad.”

Mark tried to figure that out. Tried to gauge how close he was to orgasm. The cats had gone on endlessly, it seemed. Orgasm after orgasm, non-stop, but Mark couldn’t be sure that even twenty minutes had slipped by them.

His silence must have been answer enough.

“Give me two more, Mark. Two more,” Johnny pleaded. He shifted on his feet a bit. Leaned back so that he could dig one of his hands into Mark’s thigh. It was easier for him to fuck his hips down this way and the slap of his ass against Mark’s hips echoed through the living room. “You’re so good, Mark. I’m almost there.” And even as the words left his mouth, he was cumming again. Untouched. He spilled in wild, uncontrollable bursts, cum leaping from the tip of his dick like leaking water from the showerhead. 

Mark watched in pure awe. Almost didn’t close his right eye fast enough as a gummy, white rope of cum splashed across his cheek and eyelid.

Yuta gently nibbled at the skin at the crook of Mark’s neck. Like they were interesting playthings to him, he flicked at Mark’s nipples. “You’re so tight,” he whispered. “Baby, you’re so good.”

“It feels so good,” Mark wheezed. He felt drunk on arousal. High off of the pleasure. When Yuta’s cock twitched as he fucked more cum up Mark’s ass, Mark swore he felt every drop of it. He could count them like he could count the stars in the sky. 

“One more time, Mark,” urged Johnny. When he lifted his dick in his fist, it looked smaller, less bloated. Even his balls seemed shrunk-in, as if Mark had legitimately fucked all of the cum out of him.

At long last, Johnny ran out of strength and his bouncing rhythm morphed into slow but deliberate circles of his hips. Like a dance. When he came for the last time, it was almost anti-climactic. Weak spurts of white poured out of the slit of his dick not all too different from melting ice cream dripping off a waffle cone. With one last shudder, Johnny raised his hips. Slowly. Slowly. Until Mark’s dick was entirely unsheathed from his hole.

“It’s your turn, Mark,” Johnny said with a lazy smile. He wrapped his big hand around Mark’s dick and giggled as he dragged his fingers through the layer of white slick that coated it from tip to base.

Free of a bit more weight, Yuta hoisted Mark’s hips up and fucked into him with tireless energy. As if he hadn’t cum nearly half a dozen times in the last few minutes. “Come on, babe,” Yuta praised him. “You did so good for us. Let’s do good for you.”

Mark nodded. Half in a daze. He spread his legs to give Yuta an easier time to fuck up into him and every time Yuta’s ridged cock dragged across his prostate, he whimpered out both of their names.

“You’re almost there, Mark,” Yuta said. He bit down into Mark’s soft skin, leaving a red, angry crescent of tooth marks.

Johnny kept up his pace, smearing his slick across Mark’s skin as he pumped. “Think you can time it? Think you can cum at the same time?”

Yuta chuckled. “If we cum at the same time, I’ll wear a ribbon on my tail for the rest of my life.”

“I’ve got a few,” Johnny said. “Pink ones.”

Yuta increased the tempo of his hips, as if he needed to fuck himself away from such a prospect.

Mark swallowed a mouthful of spit. “Fuck,” he choked out. “No one’s fucked me like this.”

“And no one ever will fuck you like this.” Yuta licked at the tooth marks he’d left in Mark’s skin. “Except me.”

“Except you,” Mark agreed.

Now that he no longer had Johnny’s tight heat clamped tight around him, wringing him, milking him, Mark had an easier time gauging how close he was. He opened eyes he didn’t even remember closing and immediately met Johnny’s eyes.

Johnny grinned. His ears flicked forward, as if they needed to hear every wet, filthy sound. His tail curled curiously. He leaned forward, wrapped his pretty pink mouth around Mark’s dick and swallowed him to the hilt like it was nothing.

Yuta fucked up into him. Shallow. Shakily.

Yuta and Mark both grunted out, “I’m cumming.” In perfect unison. Like fate.

Yuta shivered. Pushed his hips upward one more good time, planting himself deep up Mark’s hole. Then he came. With a loud, high cry.

Just as Mark came. Straight down Johnny’s throat. Whimpering. Broken. But pleased. Oh so very pleased.

His balls empty and his nerves sensitive to every brush of skin against his, Mark collapsed on top of Yuta. He reached out a hand. Stretched between his thighs. Pressed his fingers to Yuta’s still-hard dick buried inside. Felt all of that cum fucking dripping out and getting all over the floor.

“Can I stay inside for a bit,” Yuta questioned.

And Mark wasn’t entirely sure if Yuta meant inside as in ‘inside the house’ or inside as in ‘up his ass’ but he was alright with either definition. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse from all of his moaning and whining.

Mark ran a hand across his belly and convinced himself that he could actually feel all of Yuta’s cum distending his stomach. What a lovely idea.

Johnny stood up. Slick still dripped down his thighs but none of it was new. Johnny seemed clear-headed but, more importantly than that, he did not look like he was about to sweat out of his skin. “I’ll go get your pink ribbon, Yuta,” he said, before stepping across the sticky, sticky, sticky floor to head down the hall.

=^._.^= ∫

It was a month later.

Mark’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Even though Doyoung got pissed when his employees had their phones out on the clock, Mark pulled his phone out of his pocket regardless.

His lock screen was a photograph a kind stranger had taken only two or so weeks ago. It was the four of them sitting on an iron bench in Central Park, all of them in nice coats and scarves, surrounded by the reds and oranges and yellows of autumn. Yuta and Mark and Taeyong and Jaehyun. All of them smiling like life couldn’t get any better. Yuta's pink tail ribbon the brightest-colored thing in the shot.

Mark checked the top of his screen to read the brand new text message.

It was from Yuta. Curt and simple. “I’m ordering us a new microwave. Don’t ask what happened to the old one.”

Sighing, Mark didn’t even bother replying before he shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Oh,” he squeaked when he realized a customer was standing by the counter. “Taeil, what can I get for you?”

“The usual,” Taeil stated, grinning. While Mark went to the machine to pour the man his straight black coffee, Taeil shouted over the noise, “I’m going to be out of town this weekend. An unfortunately timed business trip. Would you mind house-sitting for me?”

Mark sat the tall, styrofoam cup on the counter and punched the order into the register. “Sure, man. I’ll do anything for a little extra cash.”

**Author's Note:**

> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/TheSwingbyJHF)


End file.
